Sometimes life settles into a holding pattern. We sit around waiting for a break, waiting for a breather, waiting for the weather to get warmer or the clouds to clear. We’re waiting for the kids to be a little bit older, for them to learn to count, learn to read, learn to ride a bike, learn to drive. We wait for vacation time, holiday time, summer time, festival time. Waiting for the budget to balance, for the next pay raise, the next promotion. Waiting for a break in the stream of chaos and crisis.
That last is what I do a lot of. Sometimes it feels like my life has been one long series of stress and crisis for the past sixteen years, and I’m always waiting for a breather.
Whatever we’re waiting for…it never comes.
I’ve got this huge list of things that I want to do. I even had the kids make lists, something for me to look at when making plans. But every day I watch the whole day slide away on the mundane, daily activities, the doctors visits, the cooking and picking up, the fixing of broken things, the prevention of city services from fining us. The holidays slide right in and out, and there I am on Yule morning or Mabon evening wondering what the hell just happened and why don’t I have anything prepared.
Sometimes I get mad. I fuss and yell at the kids for not helping, I say I’m going on strike, I say I’m not going to do anything that somebody else is capable of doing anymore. That never does any good.
I got a message from Loki the other day. It felt along the lines of, “Are you just going through the motions, or do you really want to play this game?” Put up or shut up.
So fine. Fuck guilt, fuck obligation, fuck responsibility. I want to play with my children and share books and movies with them. I want to help others, learn how to farm and build a garden and can food. I want to learn how to build and run a church, how to Build It and They Will Come. I want to dance around the campfire in the summer and run away from the snow in the winter.
If all I ever do is what I’m supposed to do, the chores and the driving and the bill-paying, then what the hell is the point, anyway?
I understand the feeling. When you have a moment we need to sit and talk.
I sent you a message on facebook.
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